The Christmas Spirit
by UsagiShinigami
Summary: Just in time for the holidays! The Enterprise is making a stop at a colony, and has something extra special planned for the children! (coughMcCoy in a Santa suitcough)


Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek.  If I did, the series would have died after two episodes.

This is my first completed Star Trek fanfiction, finished just in time for Christmas!  Well, a couple days early, but I couldn't resist!  This was actually going to be a page or two long comic strip, but there was so much I wanted to include that I decided to turn it into a full-blown fanfic.  (if anyone wants to see a picture, I am planning on drawing one, so you can e-mail me about it)  It even has a bit of a message, which surprised even me (this was originally just going to be playing around, being goofy)

Hope you enjoy!  (by the way, if any of it sounds hokie, it's because I spent more time pondering on the design of the elf costumes than on the spirit of Christmas ^^;;)

(You have to be careful, by the way, not to accidentally type "Satan" instead of Santa – I made that typo a few times while writing this!

Anyway, on with the fic…

The Christmas Spirit

Captain Kirk walked briskly down the corridor toward sickbay.  He had just ordered standard orbit around the planet Oedipus IV, where the _Enterprise_ was making its annual stop to beam down supplies, as well as perform the customary medical check-ups.  They were also planning something a little unusual for a starship, but special, which Kirk was looking forward to with enthusiasm.

               However, as it turned out, not all were as enthusiastic (one person in particular), which didn't come as much of a surprise.

               After having closed the communications channel with the colony leader, Mark Bramhall, Kirk had circled back to his command chair and flicked a switch on the armrest to open an intership communication.

               "Kirk to Sickbay."

               "Chapel here, Captain," the nurse's deep voice answered.

               "I want you, Doctor McCoy, and any other needed medical staff to report to the transporter room and prepare to beam down."

               " … Yes, Captain."  She had hesitated before answering long enough for Kirk to take notice.

               "Is there a … problem, Nurse?"

               "Well … not exactly a _problem_, Captain, but …"

               "I'll be down in a minute," he said, with slight amusement, already formulating ideas of what the problem might be.  "Kirk out."

               He was about to order Spock to take the conn, but remembered his first officer was performing experiments in Sickbay, so he gave it to Scotty.  Which was fine with Kirk.  He'd rather try to convince Spock to come with them to the colony below.

        Which brings us back to Kirk walking briskly down the corridor toward Sickbay.   Although, by this time, he was already walking into Sickbay as the doors hissed open to admit him.

The first thing he noticed when he entered was Nurse Chapel on the other side of the room organizing supplies in a medical bag.  That was not so noticeable, as she was a nurse, and part of their reason for going to the colony was to check the health of the colonists.  What _was_ noticeable was the outfit she wore.  Her one-piece blue uniform she was usually seen in was replaced by a bright green tunic with long sleeves; her legs were clad with red and white striped tights, and she wore boots with pointed toes and bells on the ends.  A green toque completed the ensemble, as well as glittering silver sparkles on her cheeks.

If it had been any other time of the year, Kirk would have thought this slightly strange.  However, it was not any other time of the year – not any other time but the Christmas season, that is.  Kirk calculated it to be around December 18 on the old Earth calendar.  Even though many people on board did not celebrate Christmas in its religious context, it did not stop the general good feeling of everyone on the Enterprise, nor the decorations from going up.  There was holly, garlands, and mistletoe around every corner, and, after almost half the crew expressed their wishes to do so, Kirk had even arranged a Secret Santa gift exchange to take place on Christmas day.

Nurse Chapel's outfit, of course, was part of their plans for the children on Oedipus IV. 

               Kirk tried not to smile too broadly at the silly outfit as he approached her.  "There was a problem, Nurse?"

               "Well, sir - "

               At that moment, the problem walked in and interrupted her.

               "I can see wearing the warm clothes, but can't the guy take a goddamn shave sometime?"  McCoy stomped into view with a sour expression on his face.  It was more sour than usual, anyway.  It was also half-hidden.  The doctor was struggling to attach what at first appeared to be a large, very hairy white animal to his chin and over his ears, which, upon further inspection, actually turned out to be a fake beard, with glistening curls cascading down almost to McCoy's middle.  His uniform had also been replaced - with a suit bright red in colour, trimmed with white fur, and held together with a large belt and buckle in the middle.  He looked every bit like jolly old St. Nick - minus the jolly, of course.  (That is, he looked like someone dressed in a Santa suit).

"Bones, I'm impressed," Kirk said as he circled around McCoy for a full inspection.  "You look ready to start going down some chimneys."

               "I'm a doctor, not a chimney sweep."

               "Well, you'll be spared that, don't worry.  You don't even have to ride a sleigh."

               "I don't remember ever reading that Santa let _his_ molecules be spread out across the galaxy.  Whose idea was this, anyway?"

               "Well, Bones - I seem to recall a certain country doctor say to me, 'Jim, those kids probably haven't had a real Christmas since they left Earth three years ago'," Kirk recited, using the exact tones the "certain country doctor" had used.  "'I can just imagine the looks on their faces if Santa were to walk in, with all his elves and bag of toys, and - '"

               "Well, said country doctor didn't think he was volunteering his services as the big guy."  McCoy finally managed to attach the stubborn fake hair to his face so that it looked somewhat like a beard - it looked like a fake one, anyway.

               "Speaking of big ..." Kirk said, turning a scrutinizing eye on McCoy's trim middle.  "Aren't you supposed to shake like a bowl full of jelly?"

               "If the replicators don't stop popping out Christmas cookies and fruitcakes with every meal, that can probably be arranged," McCoy grumped, apparently under the impression that the crew was being force-fed the goodies by the ship's computers.  His blue eyes suddenly twinkled, in a not-too-unlike-Santa way, then took on a mischievous gleam.  "There is one small consolation for my discomfort.  Wanna guess who's playing the part of Santa's elf?"

               Kirk looked at the obvious answer on the other side of sickbay as she jingled in her elf costume.  "Nurse Chapel."

               McCoy's good mood seemed to deflate slightly at his answer.  "Well ... yeah, she's coming too, but" - his eyes had that gleam again - "guess who's my _second_ elf."

               Kirk was stumped for a moment, but then looked at McCoy and shook his head in disbelief.  

               "No ... " he said.  "Not ... he would never ... "

               "He is," McCoy said happily.

               "Bones," Kirk said, suddenly having a new admiration for the doctor, "How did you do it?"

               "That's the thing.  _I _didn't.  _He_ did.  Volunteer, that is."

               Kirk looked at McCoy as if the doctor had just sprouted a sizeable Tellarite snout.

               "The good doctor is indeed correct, Captain," a familiar baritone voice said from behind them.  "This is, in fact, an excellent opportunity for me to obtain a better understanding of the human race and, primarily, its traditions and 'holidays'.  Having to live and work in such close proximity with them every day, it is a logical and profitable decision.  Reading about something, Christmas in this case, is often not so fulfilling and sufficient as experiencing it firsthand.  For example, as a scientist, it is much more beneficial to perform an experiment with dilithium, rather than reading another scientist's results, therefore, as it is obvious I cannot experience the religious stories this holiday is based on, naturally the next best thing would be to ... Have I said something humourous, Captain?"

               Kirk was busy looking at the ceiling, the biobed, the back wall, everywhere but at his first officer.  Unlike McCoy, he was at least trying to keep himself from cracking up, and was reciting section 9, paragraph 18 from the Starfleet rules and regulations book in his mind to keep himself focused on something else, but a smile nevertheless fought its way onto his face.

               It was not what Spock was saying, or even the way he said it that was taxing Kirk's self control.  The thing was, his science officer was also out of uniform.  He wore a red and white striped shirt tucked into a pair of baggy green shorts, held up by red suspenders.  His long, skinny legs were covered with bright red tights, and he wore a toque on his head that matched Nurse Chapel's.  To have tried to listen to what Spock had been saying would have been impossible.

               "N-no, Spock, nothing you've said.  Just ... glad to see you getting into the ... spirit."  He seemed to have to clear his throat a lot during his speech.  He covered his mouth to cough a few times, focusing his gaze on a spot on the wall over Spock's left shoulder.

               "I fail to understand how dressing in the traditional attire of a mythical creature constitutes one 'getting into the spirit'.  As you both know, spectral beings are merely figments of the human imagi -"

               "Blast it, Spock, you would make Scrooge proud," McCoy declared in the exasperated voice he usually addressed his friend with.

               If Spock was going to bother trying to clarify what the doctor just said, he did not get the chance to, as Kirk decided to intervene at that point, seeing that, at this rate, they _might_ get down to the colony in time for New Year's.

               "Gentlemen, I think now would be the time to go to the transporter room, wouldn't you agree?"  Without waiting for an answer he started for the sickbay doors, followed shortly after by an expressionless Spock and a seething McCoy.

               It was amazing how many people one could pass while making the trip from sickbay to the transporter room.  While most of the time it was hardly apparent that there were over four hundred crewmembers aboard the _Enterprise_, it seemed that they passed every single science officer, security personnel, and ensign ever to board the ship.  Kirk smiled pleasantly at each, and greeted the occasional person by name, and Spock nodded properly to those who greeted him, still managing to look dignified in his pointy-toed boots with jingle bells.  

However, one glance from McCoy told all passers-by that in no uncertain terms were they to mention his outfit, snicker, or even greet him, unless they wanted a large amount of coal in a very uncomfortable place come Christmas morning.  Even so, Kirk still thought he heard the occasional giggle as they walked; one yeoman they passed became very interested in studying whatever was on her padd, and suffered from a fit of coughs for a few minutes after making eye contact with her superior officers.

As they walked down the corridor toward the transporter room, a thought occurred to Kirk.

               "So, Spock, how did you know that this" - he gestured at Spock's outfit - "was the, uh, _traditional attire _of an elf?"

               "After studying various artistic depictions of the subject, Doctor McCoy informed me that this costume best suited the role of the elf of so-called 'Santa Claus'."

               Rather than marvel at how many things the ship's replicators were programmed to do, Kirk couldn't resist the opportunity to tease his Vulcan friend.  "You talk as if you're a non-believer, Spock," Kirk said, eyes widening in mocked shock.

               "Surely you are not implying that you yourself believe in such a fictional being, Captain."

               "How do _you_ know Santa doesn't exist, Mr. Spock?" McCoy challenged, as if his own existence had been doubted.  "Can you prove it?"

               "With all due respect, Doctor, must I really impart to you the string of illogic that makes up the entire Santa Claus story?"  He waited for McCoy to answer, but saw he was only waiting expectantly.  Letting out a large intake of breath (for which McCoy would no doubt accusingly identify as a human-sounding sigh had he not been waiting for the Vulcan's answer), he began to explain in a not-so-uncondescending tone of voice, "First of all, Doctor, although it is possible for an elderly man to live at the North Pole of Earth, it is most certainly not probable, especially considering the size of the workshops one would need in order to manufacture a toy for every child in the world, and the number of elves required to carry out such a task, all needing sufficient food and water to survive the extreme conditions.  In addition, the time factor involved in these stories is the biggest gaping hole in logic.  It is impossible for one man, who is old and unfit, to visit every single house or dwelling on the Earth to deliver a toy to each child all in one night, even if he were to use transporter beams, not counting the instances where time warp or travel is involved, or very few other special cases.  Furthermore, though it would be possible to give a sleigh aerodynamics with today's technology, the fact that reindeer have achieved flight in the stories is completely impossible, not to mention that these stories originated in a century where no such technology was available yet.  Therefore, the existence of a being in this nature is highly unlikely."

Instead of retorting hotly, as he usually would do, McCoy looked at Kirk in surprise.  "You know, I think I had the same argument with my own parents once.  The words were different, obviously, but the arguments were the same."

               "Indeed, the doctor raises an interesting point, doesn't he, Mr. Spock?" Kirk said, exchanging a glance and smile with McCoy as they began to tag-team their friend.

               "I fail to see validity in anything the doctor has just said."

               "On the contrary, Mr. Spock, what Bones just said _does_ have validity.  You, know, Spock, I think maybe all this time we've been wrong about there being a human underneath all that Vulcan exterior."

               "Thank you, Captain."

               Kirk exchanged a glance with McCoy before replying, "I think that underneath all that Vulcan exterior is a human _child._"

               Spock's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

               "Well," Kirk revised with a shrug, "perhaps not."

               "A highly illogical notion, Captain," Spock agreed.  It took a moment for his eyebrows to rest over his eyes again where they belonged.

               They were in the transporter room now, and waited a few minutes for Nurse Chapel and Nurse McPhee, a young red-haired woman also clad in full elf regalia, to catch up to them.

"Great, let's get this over with," McCoy growled as the two women entered the room, and jammed the red hat onto his head before stepping onto a transporter pad; Kirk wasn't sure as the room dissolved around them if the doctor was referring to the ordeal of the transporter beam, or the ordeal that awaited them on the colony below.

               It turned out that the colony wasn't too much of an ordeal, even for McCoy.  Not at first, anyway.

               As Kirk discussed the colony's progress over the past three years with Bramhall, Doctor McCoy, Nurse Chapel, and Nurse McPhee performed checkups and gave vaccinations to all the adult colonists.  It was a small colony, with relatively few people living there, so that by the time Kirk came to the room where checkups were being done, in a sort of town hall for the colony, the children were already lined up with their parents, waiting to sit on Santa's lap.

               It looked as though it was running fairly smoothly.  The children would line up to get a quick tricorder scan from Nurse McPhee, followed by a smile and vaccination with a hypospray from Nurse Chapel, and then would get a turn to sit on McCoy's lap and tell him all about their Christmas wishes.  Spock stood beside him and handed out a candy cane (but no smile) as the child left.

               It ran fairly smoothly for the first twenty or so minutes.  However, things started to get a little uncomfortable for everyone present, especially the certain someone who wore thick fur-lined coat, pants, and boots.  For, although one would assume that there would be snow falling during the Christmas season (A/N: you would think I'd be snowed in right now where I live too; usually we're blessed with a white February or March for a day or two instead of a white Christmas), the climate on Oedipus IV was hot.  It was a year-round hot that was especially uncomfortable with a bunch of kids sitting on your lap while wearing thick clothing.  The parents and children were all wearing summer-type clothing, but, as it just happened to be an especially hot day, they were starting to sweat.  You can imagine how their jolly old Santa was feeling.

               Kirk approached Nurse Chapel as she smiled at a boy and said, "Now's your turn to meet Santa!"  The boy hurried to wear McCoy sat in the middle of the room.

               "How are things progressing, Nurse?  No problems?"

               "No problems, Captain," she said as she checked her hypospray.

               "Not even with …?"

               She glanced at McCoy and laughed lightly.  "He's holding out," she said.  Her cheeks flushed ever so slightly as she continued looking in that direction, and she hastily averted her gaze to her own task.  Kirk didn't get the feeling it was the doctor that was causing her to blush.

               Satisfied with the way things were proceeding, Kirk started to walk over toward McCoy and Spock, who were just ushering the boy off his lap and giving him a candy cane.

"Ho ho ho! Have a Merry Christmas, Daniel," McCoy was saying jovially.  Kirk wasn't sure what the doctor said next, but he thought he heard something muttered about greedy, unappreciative children.  He decided to move behind McCoy, in the event that he would be needed to restrain the doctor from using certain terminology that would make a Klingon blush.

               "How are we doing, Mr. Claus?" Kirk asked the sweaty Santa.

               "I have a mint julep waiting in sickbay with my name on it.  I feel good knowing I'll feel better later."

               "The heat isn't that bad, is it?"

               "It's not the heat, it's the kids," he grumbled.  Even Spock was mildly surprised at his bluntness, though he didn't show it, of course.  McCoy quickly rephrased.  "No, I didn't mean … I mean, they're great, they're excited, but … do you know what that last one of them asked for?  A _phaser_!  Not even a toy one, but the real thing!  What kind of universe are we raising the new generation in, anyway?  Why don't any of them ask what Santa wants for Christmas?  Did any of them think of that, instead of plotting ways to _kill_ things with _phasers_?  _Killing _is sure getting into the Christmas spirit, now, isn't it?"

               "Doctor, may I intervene at this point to remind you that these are very young children, who watch their own parents work with phasers and other technologically advanced tools every day?  Not understanding what the 'Christmas spirit' is about, it would be very hard for them to 'get into it', would it not?"  That was, logically, from Spock, of course.

               "Well, someone should explain it to them, and fast," McCoy concluded.

               The reason the line had been held up momentarily, which had given the three officers time to debate, became apparent just then.  A little dark-haired girl of six or seven approached.

               "Hello, there," McCoy said, sounding friendly.  "Would you like to sit on my lap?"

               She nodded timidly and allowed him to lift her onto his knee. 

"You must be hot, Santa," she said with concern.

               "Yes, my dear, I am excruciatingly hot," McCoy assured her.  "What's your name?"

               "Julie Finch."

               "And what would you like for Christmas, sweetheart?"

               She squinted her eyes and thought for a moment.  "Nothing," she decided.

               McCoy was taken aback.  "Nothing?  Are you sure?"

               "Well … I want my baby brother or sister to come early.  Mommy says it won't come before Christmas."

               McCoy smiled, remembering the six-months pregnant woman he had checked on earlier.  "Well, that's wonderful, but I'm afraid not even Santa, magical as he is, can do that for you for Christmas, Julie.  Is there anything else you would like?"

               "Ummm … I don't know."

               "Well, that's just fine, Julie, you don't have to want anything.  I'll tell you what I can get you, though, which you'll probably want.  How about a nice candy cane?"

               The girl's eyes lit up and she nodded.

               "Thought you would like that.  I have an elf friend right here that will give you one."  He gestured toward Spock.  

"Thank you.  Merry Christmas, Santa."

               "Merry Christmas, Julie."

               He actually gave the girl a whiskery kiss on the cheek before setting her down on the ground.  She took her candy cane from the elf Spock and hurried away toward her parents.  McCoy looked from Kirk to Spock and smiled proudly, clearly thinking that maybe the universe as they knew it wasn't doomed after all.

               "You're not Santa," the next child in line informed him.  He was a fair-haired boy of no more than six years of age.

               "And you're not a reindeer," McCoy answered, not missing a beat.  It was amazing how swift his mood was to change.  "Care to sit on my lap anyway?"

               The boy looked at McCoy accusingly, but reluctantly climbed up onto his lap.  McCoy took that to mean that the kid had changed his mind, and decided that he really was Santa Claus, or that he at least was not going to attempt to pursue the subject any further.

               As it turned out, that wasn't the case.  The boy was more determined to prove himself right.

               "And what's, your name, little boy?" McCoy asked in as cheery a tone as he could muster.

               "Frederick," he answered.  "What's yours?"

               "I'm Santa Claus," McCoy answered confidently.

               Frederick shook his head vigorously.  "Noooo," he said, in that infuriating tone of voice kids use when they know they're right and you're an idiot.

               "Well, what makes you think I'm not?"

               "Santa gots reindeer."

               "Well, Santa's gone high-tech over the years.  I don't need them anymore, because I have to go from colony to colony as well as Earth."

               "Nooooo."  That tone of voice again.

               "No _what_?" McCoy asked, his patience level, which was never all that high in the first place, diminishing.

               By way of answering, Frederick buried his hand in McCoy's beard, took hold of a large handful of the itchy fake hair and gave it a very firm tug.  What took McCoy an infuriating fifteen minutes to finally fix into place was removed in a second.  The children in the line behind the boy gasped as they saw McCoy's clean-shaven face emerge from beneath the white beard, and parents attempted to cover their kids' eyes.

               "_See_?  Your beard's not even real!" Frederick proclaimed loudly.  "I _told_ you you weren't Santa!"

               The best thing to do at this point, McCoy decided, was to usher the boy off his lap and point him in the direction of Spock for his candy cane so that he would not destroy too many more childrens' happy fantasies.

               At first, though, that seemed to be the worst thing to do.  The boy looked at Spock up and down, and McCoy could predict what was coming.

"You're BIG," Frederick observed.  

Spock raised an eyebrow. 

"I thought elves was s'posed to be real short."

"You are apparently confused, young man.  I am not, in fact, an elf, I am –"

"What he means is, he's not a regular elf," McCoy said, quickly covering up Spock's revelation.  "He's a very unusual elf."

Spock looked at the doctor, half-disapproving, half-confused.  "Doctor – "

"Getting into the spirit, Spock," McCoy muttered in explanation, in a low tone that he hoped the boy couldn't hear.  

"But a lie, Doctor?"

"Not a lie, Spock, because … the unusual thing about you is … that you're not an elf at all."  He looked proud of his own unique brand of logic.

Spock, however, apparently wasn't buying it.

"I'll explain later.  Just pretend, okay?"

               "Are your ears real?" Frederick asked as Spock knelt down to give the boy his Christmas treat, being able to conduct a more thorough inspection.

               "Yes, they are genuine," he answered in his best Vulcan matter-of-factness.

               "Let me see," he said, and without giving Spock time to answer, immediately grabbed one of the tips of his pointed ears, administering the same tactic as on the fake Santa, hoping to glean the same conclusion.

               He didn't.  The ears stayed on the sides of Spock's head.  Both Spock's eyebrows were raised.  Frederick drew a different conclusion.

               "WOW!  You're a REAL ELF!!"

               "Well, what did I tell you?" McCoy confirmed from behind him. 

               "Can I sit on the elf's lap?" he asked.

               Unfortunately for Spock, the question was directed at McCoy.  The latter's eyes took on a wicked gleam, and he drawled, "Why, of course, I don't see why not."

               The boy turned to the rest of the kids in the line behind him.  "Hey, everyone!  The elf's real, and we can sit on him!"

               It was only all Spock's years of emotional disciplines and Vulcan philosophies and training that kept his eyes from popping at that moment.  For, on the boy's cue, all the children in the room and beyond forgot about being good girls and boys and waiting for their turn in the line, and surged forward as one and surrounded the elf, who was big.  

               McCoy was clearly enjoying his friend's predicament.  Kirk graciously tried not to smile too broadly as he came to Spock's rescue, telling the children that if they settled down and got back to their places in the line they would all get a turn to sit on Santa's elf's lap.

               McCoy stood up from his chair and gleefully patted it, and motioned for Spock to have a seat.  Spock took a last glance at Kirk.  Though his right eyebrow only twitched slightly, Kirk took the expression, or lack thereof, on his first officer's face to say, "Et tu, Jim?"

               Thus, Spock took the chair, and McCoy stood beside him, giving out the candy canes instead.  Although McCoy thoroughly enjoyed seeing Spock taking kids onto his lap, he hoped that his friend would not try to explain to any of them the illogic of wanting a pony for Christmas. 

The turbolift doors on the bridge opened with a hiss to admit Kirk, who was followed closely by McCoy.  Both of them sported wide smiles on their faces (having removed the suffocating clothing, McCoy's mood improved all the more), and they settled down, Kirk in his chair, McCoy behind the chair, to happily discuss Spock's first Christmas experience. 

"Maybe we can get Nurse Chapel to teach Spock about mistletoe next," McCoy suggested, his tone not too unserious.  "Think we can lasso him into playing the Easter Bunny come April?"

"You'll have to pursue that idea by yourself, I'm afraid, I'll have no part in it."

               "Do you think he'll forgive us?" McCoy asked mildly.

               "Forgive us?" Kirk asked innocently.  "It was his idea."

               "Well … it wasn't exactly his idea to let fifty kids sit on his lap."

               "The new experience will do him good.  Hands-on experience is the paraphrase, I believe, of what he wanted."  He thought for a moment.  "Well, I guess he wasn't counting on that one kid at the end of the line … it also wasn't our fault that kid had a weak stomach."

               "At least the stains aren't on his uniform."  McCoy smiled fondly at the memory.  "Only a Vulcan can maintain his dignity while sporting a kid's lunch," he concluded.

               "True, very true."

               The turbolift doors hissed once again, this time to allow their tall Vulcan friend entrance.

               "Speak of the devil, Mr. Spock," Kirk said.

               "I beg your pardon, Captain?"

               "We were just talking about you," McCoy translated.

               "Ah.  Any particular subject, Captain?"

               "Oh, nothing much, just … discussing what you might want for lunch."  McCoy made a noise that sounded sort of like a whoopy cushion.   

               Spock nodded, and turned to report back to his station.

               "Just a moment, Mr. Spock," Kirk said, motioning for the Vulcan to stand closer to his chair.  After he did so, Kirk continued,  "We also wanted to know your opinion of the happenings on the colony."

               "To which happening, specifically, are you referring?"

"We just wanted to know if this experience taught you anything about the Christmas spirit, Spock," McCoy clarified for him.

               "In fact it has, Doctor."

               "_Oh_?" McCoy said, glancing sideways at Kirk.

"I have decided this 'Christmas spirit' that you speak so fondly of does not solely involve an elderly, obese man with diminutive helpers who make presents for children.  Rather, it is the feeling that is involved.  The 'Secret Santa' gift exchange, for example, is in the spirit, as well as the general good feeling it brings to the crew; Doctor McCoy, on the other hand, with his rather cynical feeling during the season, is an example of not being in the spirit." 

               This was almost too much for Kirk.  Spock teaching McCoy about the Christmas spirit.  It was too funny.

               Apparently, it was too much for McCoy.  "Why, you green-blooded, pointed-eared - !"

               "Thank you, Mr. Spock, for that assessment," Kirk said quickly, before McCoy could say something else that Spock would consider out of the spirit.  If Kirk hadn't known better, he would have thought he heard his chief medical officer emit a low growl.  "Anything else?" 

"As a matter of fact, yes.  The Christmas spirit also seems to be about the togetherness, of friends, and –" Spock looked from McCoy to Kirk, and back to McCoy – "family."  

               Kirk and McCoy exchanged glances, both men's eyebrows raised.

               "Which, of course, most people find essential to their lives," Spock said, glossing it over.  "I, while not needing it, of course, will accept the fact that some seem to want my company, and feel it necessary that –"

               "Of course, Mr. Spock, we understand," Kirk said, cutting him off before McCoy could.  Spock nodded and turned to move back to his station.  Kirk and McCoy exchanged a knowing smile.  "And Spock?"

               "Yes, Captain?"

               "Merry Christmas."

               Spock looked thoughtful for a minute, as if testing the sound of the words in his mind before trying them out loud.  "Merry … Christmas, Captain, Doctor."

               It was with a wide smile and elated heart that Kirk ordered Sulu to leave standard orbit.

Merry Christmas, everyone! 


End file.
